If I Had Only Known
by Jessica Messenger of the Devil
Summary: Mokuba Kaiba is stabbed dead while at a party. Seto Kaiba throws away everything he has just to find the murderer. Meanwhile, he is being haunted by terrible dreams of a nameless phantom. R
1. He can't be dead!

Jessica: This is not good...and I don't mean the fic.  I've barely begun this and already I have a gray blob of a writer's block.

Malik: *unhelpfully* Maybe you should plan it out.

Jessica: That was pointless.  I already did.  And I came up with one single idea – a gray blob of a writer's block.

Malik: ???

Kaiba: You lost me there.

Jessica: For a CEO of a huge hologram technology business, you sure are – 

Kaiba: Don't finish it.  My fans will flame you. ^_^

Jessica: Good.  That means my writer's block too.  *kicks aforesaid block…er…blob*

Kaiba: *tactfully changes subject for no reason (so why tactfully?)*  You sure owe me for this fic.

Okay, SCREW THE TACTFULLY!

Jessica: *picks up hammer* You may be adored by your fans, but you can't escape me!

Malik: *picks up popcorn* Ooh, this should be _good_…*begins to watch chase from atop of the writer's blob*

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            **If I Had Only Known**

            For years I have felt guilty.  About Mokuba.  About my rash decisions that led to my eventual despair.  About everything.

            But why?  It was not my fault.  Nothing was.  They keep telling me that.  Yeah, yeah.  Sure.  If I had only known what would happen!  If I had only known that Mokuba would be stabbed dead at a party, I would never have let him go.  If I had buckled down and told Mokuba that he had already gone to more parties than I could ever count, that he had to do his homework…

            But – how different would I be, then, from our stepfather?

            I had opened my mouth, ready to say, "No, Mokuba.  You cannot go. - " and insert the stupid, lame, reasons why **not** – and then, inexplicably, I had thought of Gozaburo Kaiba.  Gozaburo Kaiba, the stepfather I always hated and who always controlled Mokuba and I as if we were pawns on a chessboard.  I had thought of my dead stepfather and relented.  So, the decided "no" became a "yes".

            "Sure, Mokuba, you can go.  Have fun, kid."

            Oh, if I could only change that to a "No, Mokuba, you'll be stabbed dead and I will be left alone to fend for myself in this world…"

            But then, Mokuba would stare at me oddly and think I was losing my mind (with good reason, too).  And he would go back to his room, and still find a way to go to his party.  

            So, was his death meant to be?

            I never will know.

            It was a Friday when he told me about this party.  "Hey, Seto," he said, perching himself on the edge of my desk as he always liked to do, though he was in high school.  "Hey, there's a party at the bar.  The guys wanted me to come.  It's in a couple of hours, and I was wondering if I could go."

            Trust Mokuba to leave it for the last minute.  He knew I would be annoyed, but he also knew (from years of experience) that I would be too busy to resist.  He knew that I would say "yes" and the expected permission would always come.  Of course, he would bug me until I relented anyway, so he always got what he wanted.  The "yes" that granted him permission to do anything he wanted, to soar free of boundaries, to spiral into the sky, into his idea of heaven and fun.

            Okay, Mokuba.

            Sure, kid.

            Yeah, fine, whatever.

            Of course.  Have fun.

            Why not?  Why not say "no" when there was a deliriously joyful "yes" that could be said?  I had never heard many "yes" 's in my younger years.  It was all "no" 's, the ones I hated so.  Perhaps I was making it up to myself.

            Okay.

            Sure.

            Yeah.

            Why not?

            Of course!

            They came like water, rolling off my tongue just as easily.  It was just a couple of words.  A couple of words that would lead to Mokuba's death.  And my despair.

            "Sure, Mokuba.  You can go.  Have fun, kid."

            I smiled at him and pushed him off my desk.  

            Oh, if I could only change that answer!

            I would suddenly say, "No, Mokuba - " and tell him a stupid reason why.  

            But I didn't.  And he left with a casual wave.  "Bye, Seto."  With that, he walked out through the door, closing it shut behind him.  And I looked up from my laptop screen and shuddered.

            It was as if he had gone through a door I had never realized existed, and had shut it, leaving me behind.  It was as if he had gone through a door that I could never follow through.  One that was only for him, and not for me.

            I cursed myself for being so superstitious.  It was just an ordinary office door.  If it was not fancier than most, it was plain, normal, and definitely not a gateway to some unknown world that Mokuba, but not I, could go into.

            Instead of contemplating all the possible things that could happen to Mokuba, I began to work on my new duel disk design.  It was complex and would require a lot of money and time.  Fortunately, I had both.  Had.

            It was late at night when I called it quits.  I was tired, my design was all worked out, and I was ready for sleep.  

            Then the telephone rang.

            It was a man's voice, pressing and hurried.  "Sorry to call you like this, Mr. Kaiba," the unknown speaker said.  "Your brother was stabbed by a psychopath in the bar.  We think he's dead.  He's at the hospital right now."

            I could hardly bring myself to answer.  "Dead? Mokuba? But – why?"  I stammered, hoping this was not true.  "But – why?"

            "We don't know, Mr. Kaiba.  We're awfully sorry this had to happen.  Your brother…he's the most decent guy I know."  The caller's voice broke.   "And he was having a soda, and suddenly…this guy taps him on the shoulder.  And Mokuba…he spins around in his chair.  And the guy…threw the knife."

            I was too stunned to reply to this tidbit of information.  "Who? Who? WHO?" I asked urgently when I got my voice back.  "Who did this?"

            "None of us ever saw him before.  But he was…different.  He was masked but all of us saw that he was weird."

            I hung up.  Weird and different gave me no sense of who this murderer was.  

            And "the hospital" could've meant any hospital.  But I knew instinctively which one it was.  The only hospital us Kaiba brothers went to was the most expensive but careful and professional there was.  Mokuba's friends surely would know that and send him there.

            It was a false hope I gave myself.  For when I arrived, nobody had seen Mokuba or his friends.  I cursed my stupidity; the hospital was many miles away from the bar Mokuba and his friends haunted; it was far from Domino City in fact.  No, I had no choice but to try the closest one from the bar.  Even though it was cheap, hardly professional…hardly a place for Mokuba to go to.

            I leapt into my limo and screamed directions to the chauffeur.  He went slowly and carefully, and normally I would not have minded.  But today I was different.  I was a different man altogether, for in the face of danger I was but a scared boy with no knowledge of what would loom around the corner.  "Go faster, fool! My brother may be dying!" I screamed.

            Kaiba Corp chauffeurs are all obedient and quick at the wheel.  This one was no different.  "Yes, Mr. Kaiba.  Right away, sir."

            The limo sped up with a pace I had not thought possible.  I sat back, breathing hard.  _Mokuba! Mokuba!_ I screamed silently in my head.  _Don't die! I'm coming!_

I exited the limo with as much speed as I could muster and thanked the chauffeur before racing inside the hospital.

            I really did not wish to be there.  The hospital was as un-professional as a hospital can get and filled with drunks who had been injured at the bar.  It was also impersonal, as if the doctors didn't care if their patients lived or died.  However, they _were_ quick, I had to admit that.  They led me straight to Mokuba.

            I was filled with horror as I saw my brother on the bed.  I could not believe it was him!  His face was drained of all color and deathly pale.  Blood stained a bandage wrapped around his stomach.  The white blanket seemed dark against his skin.  I tried to convince myself it was that the blanket was dirty.  That was not the case.  My brother was dying, and nothing I could do would prevent his death.

            I could barely see his face.  Respirators covered his mouth and nose, his breathing was shallow.  His black hair was fanned out behind him.  Slowly all the life was ebbing away from him, and I could not bear to watch.  However, I forced myself to look into the closed eyes.  They were closed off from me and I felt a longing to gaze into their depths once more.

            Mokuba.

            "Mokuba!" I whispered frantically.  "Mokuba, are you in there?"

            "There's no use," said the doctor by his bed.  "Kaiba, I think he's just about gone."

            I wanted to scream at the doctor until I saw that he was truly sorry.  Not because of my wealth, or my fame.  He was sorry because he cared, and I granted him that.

            Are you in there, Mokuba? Are you in there?

            His chest fell up and down with his shallow breathing.  I found myself breathing with him.

            In…

            Out…

            In…

            Out.  Out in a frightening rattle.

            I waited for him to breathe in again.  I choked and hacked, and my lungs were dying for oxygen.  But I saw that my brother was dead.  I had heard his last breath.  His death rattle echoed in my ears.

            I breathed in.  I forced myself to, and with the oxygen came tears.

            I, Seto Kaiba, cried that night.  I cried as I had never before.  All the tears I had not shed during my hard childhood came flowing down my face as I wept that night.  I hit the nearby furniture with my fist until it bled.  I touched the still, cold hand and the white, pallid face and stared at the peaceful face and cried as if I would never stop.  

            "Goodbye," I choked.  "Goodbye, Mokuba."

            The doctor swiftly exited the room and left me to my tears.  I was alone in the world.  Mokuba and I had never even gotten to say a real goodbye.  It seemed that I suddenly went from the cold, hard Kaiba to vulnerable, helpless Seto.  My childhood vows never to cry were thrown away that day as tears poured down my cheeks relentlessly and I hugged the lifeless form that was my brother.

            I tore the respirators off of Mokuba's face.  He would not need them anymore.

            I threw the blankets off his limp body.  I could not bear to see their fresh whiteness, their cleanliness, their brightness in comparison to Mokuba.  My brother.  

            I shook him and shouted at him, hoping to give a jolt to his heart.  No, he remained still.

            I stared at the bandages that covered his wound.  

            And then I realized how terrible this sudden death made me feel.  How terrible it felt to lose a loved one.  Oh, I had scoffed at the movies that had shown these scenes of death.  And I was experiencing one right now.

            Mokuba had been flawed, I knew that.  He had been a C student who struggled to climb up to a B-, where I was a straight A honor roll scholar.  I had been taught by Gozaburo, and Mokuba had been taught by unworthy teachers who knew absolutely nothing about what they taught.

            But Mokuba was my brother.  He was the one who could understand everything I told him.  The one person who could win me over by smiling at me. 

            As cried, I thought about him, which made me cry more.  Finally I gathered myself together and picked up his body.  Then I carried him (I refused to call him an it) into the limo and ordered the chauffeur to drive home.

            He did not question my tearstained face, nor my hands that were bloodied from hitting furniture and carrying Mokuba's body.  I was glad of that and tipped him well.

            I laid Mokuba's body on a couch and went up the many flights of our house into my bedroom.  I refused to believe that Mokuba was dead.  I thought about his body as a "he" and still referred to the house as "ours".  But in my heart I knew Mokuba would not come back.

            I washed the blood from my hands and cleansed my cuts.  But I knew that the one wound that I could not heal that night was the one in my heart. 

            I readied for sleep, refusing to think about Mokuba's body lying downstairs.

            As I stared at the ceiling, thinking thoughts about Mokuba and his flawed yet faultless character, I suddenly had one thought.

            _Who could've killed my brother?_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jessica: Ok, I know, this sort of is like Lois Duncan's Who Killed My Daughter?  But it's kind of different…if you know what I mean…

Whew! It's 2000+ words and five pages long!  Hope you guys liked it!

Kaiba: I hope you're still not going to chase me.

Jessica: Which reminds me…

~*~*~*~*~  
A/N-Kaiba is not my favorite character by far, but he is the only one who fits the personality I wanted to portray.  I couldn't do Yugi/his grandfather or Joey and Serenity or Isis and Malik.  Their characters don't seem right.  So I chose Mokuba and Kaiba.


	2. Psychics and Phantoms

Jessica: *pokes at blob pointlessly with toe* Die, evil blob…

*She has given up on chasing Kaiba.  Jessica is now seated on the blob, which has grown to twice its original size.*

Malik: *whistles* You must be totally inspiration-free.  

Jessica: *nods glumly*  You bet.  I can't make this chapter angsty enough!  Stupid blob! *She bounces on it, but it just gives her the rebound action her floor lacks*

Mokuba: You could set it on fire.  I tried that with big brother's teddy bear…it was really combustible.  You should've seen it go up! 

Jessica: Hey, nifty idea!  

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            I could not sleep at the thought of Mokuba lying downstairs, bloody and unmoving, on the couch.  I tossed and turned, thinking of the mysterious killer and the trouble it had brought me.  Finally, I fell into a restless sleep, though as soon as I had the dream, I wished I were awake.

            A phantom approached me, holding a knife in its hand.  The knife was stained with the blood of a former victim.  I tossed and turned, for I was sure that the phantom was Mokuba's murderer.  Would he kill me, too?

            Tears ran down my cheeks.  I was in such a misery that I hoped he would kill me…I didn't care how much I suffered.  I was already suffering so much by Mokuba's sudden death…no blade could possibly make me feel worse.

            The phantom figure turned scornfully.  "No, I shall not kill you, Seto Kaiba," it intoned in a terrible voice.  "No, I shall leave you to suffer as you watch your life disintegrate before your very eyes…"

            Then it laughed, making my blood run cold.  I woke up, sweating.

            I was afraid to sleep again.  The murderer would surely come to me in my dreams.  Oh, how I wished that all this were just a nightmare, and that I would hear my alarm go off at precisely 5:00, as if to chide me, "Wake up you little silly!  You're dreaming and you have school today!"

            No, my alarm would not ring to save me.

            I dressed and went down the many floors to the kitchen, purposely avoiding Mokuba's body.  I caught a glimpse of myself as I passed a tall, full-length mirror.  I had shadows under my eyes and my skin was gray.  I came closer and was shocked to find that my hair had a fine silver line in it.

            I was not yet thirty and this stunned me.  But I, Seto Kaiba, was too exhausted to care about my appearance.  I wanted to sleep and forget everything that happened to me.  I wanted to die, to leave the world and join Mokuba.  To soar up into heaven or down into hell, nothing mattered.  I wanted to be with Mokuba.  Wherever he was…

            I didn't care if he was flying with angels or burning in the nadir of hell.  But I wanted Mokuba back…I kept thinking of the things I hadn't done.  The things that would've saved his young life.

            I wished that Mokuba would wake up, stretch, walk around, and laugh (how I missed that laugh!).  I wished it as passionately as, when I was younger, I had wished that I could be like the other boys, that I could have fun for once, that I could be the best duelist in the world, that I could defeat Exodia…

            But I would give up all my money, all my fame, all my titles and cards…

            If I could have Mokuba back in my life.

            I braced myself and walked over to the couch that he lay on, silent and unmoving.  I felt a sharp pang in my heart as I stared at the quiet, pale face.  It was so different from the face of Mokuba's happy, rambunctious childhood.  It wasn't just that he had matured and his features were less childlike, but then, he had been bubbling over with mirth and his eyes were large and bright.  They had held an innocence of the world beyond.

            Not anymore.

            I gazed sadly at Mokuba for a moment.  Then, when I looked up, I started in surprise.  The old Mokuba I had known so well was running towards me, arms outstretched, eyes wide and bright again.  His face was candid and innocent, but as he ran, he began to grow older until he was the age when he died.

            I ran to Mokuba, tears running down my cheeks.  I held my arms to him, and he fell through them.  He ran straight through me and into the arms some unknown angel.  

            He looked so happy.  I wished that I could join him, that we could be together once more.  I was about to turn away from the illusion when a sinister voice whispered into my ear, poisoning my thoughts and torturing my very soul.

            _"Does it hurt you, Seto Kaiba, to see your brother reject you for someone he does not even know? Yes, let the image eat away at your spirit until you are ready to take your own life…"_

I covered my ears and fell to my knees.  "No! Stop it!"

            _"He never needed you to be happy…never needed you for anything…"_

The voice tortured me and clearly enjoyed it.  "Why are you doing this to me?" I sobbed.

            _"I want to torment you like I did your brother…only in a more…enjoyable…way…"_

            I looked up.  The phantom was gone, and so were the illusions that had afflicted me.  

            I was a broken man, but determined to find who had killed my little brother.  I scanned the news, hoping to find some hints.  I started to record my telephone calls, in case a tipster had information of use.  Though it pained me to do it, I went into Mokuba's room and started to look around.

            The headlines I got were of no use.

            **Mokuba Kaiba's Murderer Still at Large**

  (Domino Times, 10/25)

**            Police Still Questioning Possible Suspects**__

                          (Domino Times, 10/26)

            I had started reading of hit-and-run murders.  Though the actual killings intrigued me, I was more interested in what the family had done in response.  One family had gone to a psychic.  I scoffed at that and stopped reading.

            I could tell that Mokuba's murder was taking its toll.  I could not sleep for fear that the phantom would appear to me, I barely ate, and sometimes I would cry at random moments.  My company was going downhill, and I didn't even care.  My new duel disk design never went out to the public.

            I could not bring myself to even duel.  My reputation for the world's number one duelist was going down the drain.  Most people sympathized with me, saying that it was hard to get over a close one's death.

            Others, however, said that I was just moping and too afraid to face reality.

            I was not afraid to admit that they were right.

            I got ceaseless telephone calls from annoying reporters.  Sometimes I wouldn't even pick up the phone.

            One day, the telephone in my office rang.  I didn't pick it up.  The answering machine automatically kicked in.

            "You've reached Kaiba.  I'm too busy to answer your telephone call right now.  You can either leave your message after the tone or go away and annoy me later.  BEEP."

            The rude automated message didn't seem to faze the caller.  I shuddered as I heard the voice.

            _"Remember me, Kaiba?"_

            Yes, I did.  How could I forget the voice that haunted me day and night, whether I slept or not?  How could I forget the voice of the phantom? Of the psychopath who had murdered my only family?  Of course I remembered that haunting, chilling, evil voice.

            _"The way you accept your brother's murder is amusing…"_

Amusing? Who did this guy think he was?

            _"Maybe I should put you out of your misery…the same way I did with your brother…"_

Angrily, I picked up the phone.  **"Who do you think you are?"** I bellowed.

            On the other end, the caller chuckled.  It was a laugh that froze me to the bone.  "Who do I think I am? I am the one who has ruined your life.  I am the one who killed your brother.  I am the one whose name you curse.  I am the one…"

            There was a pause.  "…who is going to kill _you_, too, Seto Kaiba."

            I dropped the receiver, shocked.  

            I was afraid to leave the house after that.  But when a month passed with no strange happenings, I began to ease back into my old life.

            However, I could not bring myself to hold a funeral for Mokuba.  Having him (or at least his body) in the house was a way for me to feel that Mokuba had not truly died, that his spirit was still with me.  I was taken aback, one day, when without thinking I began to talk to his corpse.

            "Hey, kid," I said quietly.  "I wish you were still here.  I miss you a lot."

            I started in surprise.  Was I going insane? Trembling, I reached for the telephone.  I remembered the book that I had read of the family who had gotten clues from psychics about the murderer.  

            I had never believed in psychics.  But now…maybe…maybe I could get some clues from one now.  Maybe it was the time to believe…I would do anything to get a single clue.

            I automatically dialed a number I had sworn I would never call.  I called Isis Ishtal.         

            Why did I call Isis of all people?  I had not liked her and only had seen her exhibit for Obelisk.  So why did I call her for help?

            And I knew that she did not have her powers anymore.  She had given away her Sennen Tauk to that runt, Yugi.  However, I knew that she would have some answers for me.

            The phone on the other end rang endlessly.  Finally Isis picked it up.  "Hello?" she said, sounding as mysterious and as inexplicable as ever.

            "Kaiba."  I tried to imitate my old, haughty tone, but my voice broke.  I was different from the sharp Kaiba I had been before Mokuba's death.

            Isis interrupted me before I could go any further.  "I think I know what you want.  Come to the museum.  I cannot give you the answers you seek, but I can give you something useful to your quest."

            Then she hung up.  It irked me to be pitied, especially by someone I disliked.  But I would do anything to punish my brother's murderer.

            I went into Mokuba's room as I had done so many times.  A childhood photo of me was hung up on the wall.  It seemed to glare at me for throwing away the independent act I had put on all my life.  For calling on the aid of another.

            "Look, I'm sorry, okay?" I snapped to my younger self in the photo.  "I just want to know who did this…"  I could not hold my gaze with the sharp one in the photograph and looked away.  "I just want to find myself again.  I only want to know.  I only want to be able to look into my brother's face without feeling that I have failed."  I whispered this last part.  

            For every time I looked at Mokuba, I felt like he was angry with me for not knowing who had ruined both of our lives.  But I often wondered how I could feel this, since he was dead.  I would not admit it to myself, but I knew in my heart that I could not possibly be feeling what Mokuba felt, since his body was now but an empty shell. 

            Finally I braced myself and took the limo to Isis's museum.

            She had been waiting, and motioned me to sit in a chair across from her.  "Hello, Seto Kaiba," she said quietly.  "I am sorry for your loss."

            The old me would've made some sharp, snappy comeback.  The old Kaiba would've told her exactly what he felt.  He would say that she needed not to be sorry and that she couldn't possibly care that Mokuba was dead.  But the new me only waited silently for her to continue.

            "What do you sense?" I said when the silence grew.  I never would've asked such a question before.  Before, I had not believed in her "feelings" and "magic".  Now, I would believe anything if it would help me find my old life.

            She bowed her head slightly.  "This gives me a sense," she began.  "You have changed, Seto Kaiba.  You are willing to believe anything.  This may lead you to a false trail.  This could be dangerous for you."

            I did not interrupt.  

            "This part puzzles me.  I sense that the murderer is connected to me, somehow.  I can just feel our connection, though when I try to grasp it, it slips away.  I believe that I know this man, though not personally."

            I had just been about to suggest Malik.  However, if she did not know him personally, it could not possibly be him.

            "While I waited for you, I received several messages."  Isis frowned.  "They came to me through illusions.  From these pictures, I saw that you, too, know the murderer."

            I was startled. 

            "Kaiba, why do you wish to know this?" Isis asked.  "I sense this will lead you to much sorrow and turmoil!  Why can you not live on with this and push it aside?"  

            I gave her an angry glare.  It was as if the old me had come back, but only for a short moment.  "Obviously you do not understand," I said icily.  "He wants me to know."  

            It sounded stupid, and I realized it.  I turned on my heel and walked out of the museum.

            Someone who didn't know me would say I was coping unusually well.  I wasn't.  I could not bring myself to come to work and spent all my time taking walks in deserted areas or playing mindless games on the computer.  Freecell.  Minesweeper.  Pinball.  Solitaire.  Games that involved little strategy and mostly luck.

            I deleted my blueprints for my new duel disk design.  All I used my computer for was to play stupid games and write meaningless phrases even I didn't know the meaning of.

_Gone and never came back_

_Gone and I couldn't follow._

_Gone and I can't find him_

_Far away_

_Where I can't go_

_Where I want to follow but can't_

_Unless the knife…_

_Which I can't_

_But why?_

            _Kaiba, 12/10_

            Christmas was approaching fast.  It pained me to see the happy children playing in the snow and buying presents.  It pained me to see joyful families having fun and couples walking in the twilight.  It pained me even more to see the carolers going around.  Another high-school student, one with absolutely no charm and no singing voice, filled Mokuba's place. 

            What angered me most was the new news headline.

            **Mokuba Kaiba's Murder Announced Accident**

                               (Domino Times, 12/13)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jessica: Another 2000 word chapter…-__-; This is getting tiring.

*Jessica and Mokuba have managed to set everything BUT the writer's blob on fire*

Mokuba: I guess these things aren't combustible.  Darn.

Jessica: Still have one match…want to have a go?

Mokuba: Sure.

*Writer's Blob is set aflame*

Jessica: YES!

Yami: AH! FIRE! *gets fire extinguisher and sprays everywhere*

The dust clears, and the Writer's Blob is still whole.

Jessica: YAMI!

*In traditional dust-cloud format, Jessica beats up Yami into a crushed pulp*

^_^ I feel better now.

Sorry to Yami fans ^_^ but I couldn't resist.  No, Yami is not a highly-abused character in my fanfics.  I just find him as an easy target.


	3. Note from Jessica

Hey all,

I hate to say this, but I'm leaving Fanfiction for good. It's just become to screwed up, in deleting my stories. I'm still willing to write fanfiction, and if you wish me to send you a new chapter, just e-mail me at I have a few chapters written already, so those who wish to see them, can.

In the meantime, my site, is hosting a fanfiction contest, for all ages. Go to the Contest page, read the rules, and enter by sending me (CCS judge), (who judges InuYasha), or (who will be judging Yu-Gi-Oh! shortly) an e-mail saying you wish to enter. All due dates are April 30. The Yu-Gi-Oh contest rules aren't up yet, but the CCS rules also apply to the YGO ones.

I'm sorry for abandoning you all, and probably bringing you here on a false alert, and for not notifying you earlier…

-Jessica Messenger of the Devil

PS: I'm on my last warning, so if this is deleted, so is my account

PPS: Sorry for leaving you in suspense...e-mail me for the next chappie.


End file.
